


be the cure

by velleitees



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Kissing, M/M, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 15:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velleitees/pseuds/velleitees
Summary: of longing and dan in phil's bunk.





	be the cure

**Author's Note:**

> oops. well, the ending isn't abrupt at all.

“Miss you.”

Dan’s voice is a low breath, a sleepy sound of nights left half-awake and days spent half-asleep, rough from speaking to a crowd, but almost soft enough. Phil hums. He’s tugging on Dan’s curls, touch gentle as his fingertips massage his scalp, eyes shut as he does so. It’s another sleepless night, a night accompanied by the gasping and the groaning of a bus lumbering forward on a lonely, lonely, highway. They’re close, bodies touching, yes, but the space they share is never quiet enough, Dan thinks briefly. The thought isn't all that pervasive, though, because Phil is still there. Still beside him, still touching him when he can, holding his hand under cheaply made tables and in the short absence of cameras. And when they’re here — pressed against each other, shoulders and hips and legs tangled under a thin blanket, lips close but not touching (unlike their knees, their elbows, their skin).

Dan scoffs, mock-affronted. “Saying it back is good etiquette, you know?”

“What — that I miss you?” Phil chuckles, “I haven't stopped seeing you all day.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but I miss you so fucking much, Phil Lester. I miss kissing you, I miss touching you when I can—” Dan’s tone of voice is suddenly too desperate, too needy, too tired, but he says it anyway because he’s exhausted and Phil’s running a hand across the messy brown he has for hair, and he doesn’t really have the heart to care. “ _God_ , I miss you so fucking much it’s actually bloody embarrassing.”

They don’t do confessions often. It isn’t necessary, it never is, because they know the words left unsaid. The casual smile, or just the way Phil looks at him first thing in the morning, or the look Dan sends right back before sleep conquers them both.

“Well, I miss you too, Daniel.” Phil shifts toward him, smiling crookedly.

Phil’s careful with him, always reverent. It’s different when they’re sat in front of a lens, in front of thousands of eyes where they become careless only in a way that they permit. But here, Dan lets himself fall. Allows Phil to catch him at a faithful height. Though sometimes he doesn’t need catching but Phil’s just there, seemingly searching but never prying, and that’s already enough.

Dan shifts in the bed, body aching, elbow at odd angles to accommodate their long bodies. It’s cramped — but for once, Dan doesn’t mind. He leans forward, then, and Phil’s light eyes are void, colourless, the fairy lights strung beside them barely a glimmer on his pupils. “Good,” he mutters, only half joking and Phil searches his face, questioning, touch growing tender, softer, slower, even. It’s a blissful pain to be looked at like that, knowing they can’t do much until the next stop at a hotel where finally, _finally,_ Dan can kiss and touch wherever he pleases.

When Phil speaks again, his voice is painfully low. “I always do. You know that.”

“I do.”

“—Good.”

“I mean I hope so, we’ve got a lot longer than nine years,” Dan says, wryly, fingers reaching up to guide the hands away from his hair, to twine them with his.

" _Sc_ _ary_.”

He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing too loudly. A sigh disturbs the air somewhere near them, and his voice drops to a murmur, “And with _you_ of all people for fuck’s sake.”

Surprisingly, “Can’t wait,” is what Phil replies with, and it lacks hesitancy, unlike every other impermanent thing in Dan’s life. A sleepy smile adorns his face, glasses perched askew on his nose, body warm against his. Only a fool could remain unaffected with the way he's looking at him.

“Why?” Dan asks.

“Because.” Phil just shrugs, shoulder bumping against his. “It’s you.”

Around them, the air grows heavier. Dan exhales, shakily, and he’s grounded, incapable of moving, and when Phil brings his knuckles up to his lips, he’s sure his heart is failing him. It’s too tender, too adoring. Dan is the one that closes the distance, losing the grip on Phil’s fingers in between them, body full of yearning to care that the others are asleep no more than five feet away, heartbeat capricious and unsteady and so, so _fast_. Phil kisses him back, holding onto him, pushing him deeper into the mattress. It’s probably going to snap, it’s probably not even supposed to hold two people but Dan doesn’t really have the mind to care, and maybe one of them will fall out of the bunk, but the way Phil kisses lightly against his jaw and sculpts words against it makes it awfully hard to stop.

He wants to undress him, feel his skin beneath his palms. It’s late, the clock reading some obscure number and there are spidery shadows from the shuffling curtains and the fairy lights cast across their faces. Phil slides his hand beneath Dan’s shirt, and maybe he groans, and maybe he slides beneath him, wanting more but knowing he can’t, waiting patiently for Phil to stop.

Dan stops, willingly, because he knows if their bodies get any closer he’ll start to want more. “ _Shit_ ,” is what Phil manages when they pull apart, and the word is strangely dirty when it leaves his mouth. His breathing is sharp, jagged, matching the rise and fall to Dan’s chest. 

“Tomorrow—"

Phil takes a moment to stare at him, eyes dark, blue several shades greyer now. “Yeah, I—” he inhales, swallowing, averts his gaze someplace else. Dan grins, pleased to know that he still has this kind of effect on him.

“In the hotel, yes.” Dan pushes himself up onto his forearms, blinking innocently even though his body is burning with want, wanting release. It's a teasing gesture, and yet it seems to do something to Phil. “Then we'll finally get to fu—”

“Okay, okay. Go to bed, it’s late,” Phil coughs, embarrassed, turning his face a little, “we’re carrying on tomorrow at the hotel. I know.”

He feels his mouth curl up in a grin. “Do you want me to sleep here? I can go—”

“Stay," Phil replies at once, "you know I miss you here.”

Dan shakes his head at that, allows himself to smile, moving a bit closer to Phil until his back is against his chest and he can feel the steady heartbeat through the fabric that separates them, until Phil curves his arms loosely around his middle.

The way their bodies settle against each other is intrinsic, every dip and crevice and plane knowing how they fit together, where it belongs and how it feels there. It’s dark outside, no stars out tonight.

Quiet fills whatever leftover space there is left. It takes a moment for Phil to speak again. He does, eventually, when Dan's eyelids begin to weigh heavy with the sands of sleep.

“Love you.”

Muffled, reverent, firm, he likes how Phil says those words. Phil drops a kiss on the back of Dan’s neck, sweetly, adoration tainting his syllables, hands finding his where they know best.

Funny how the feeling in his chest never seems to really go away.

He snorts in response, but sleepy and enamoured, Dan says back, “ _Love you, too_.”

**Author's Note:**

> say hi i'm [velleitees](https://velleitees.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. <3


End file.
